USS Temeraire
by evening spirit
Summary: OMG! CM team becomes a crew of a Star Trek ship! Whole team, but Reid is in close combat with Morgan for the role of a Main Character. No pairings. The story was completed and posted on another site. Info at the end of the last chapter posted here.
1. Captain Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner

**Disclaimer:** Do not own, no profit gained.

**Summary: **OMG! CM team becomes a crew of a Star Trek ship! Who will be the Pilot, who will rule Engineering, who is the Klingon? Read and find out. Whole team, but Reid is in close combat with Morgan for the role of a Main Character. No pairings. Yet.

**A/N:** Short, I know. It's a teaser. There will be more.

* * *

**U.S.S. _Temeraire_**

**1 - Captain Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner**

* * *

Aaron Hotchner had proudly served onboard U.S.S. _Quantico_ as the First Officer for seven years. _Quantico_ however, was now in debris somewhere between Cardasia Prime and Bajor. Only thirty six members of her two hundred and fifty crew fled in escape pods, most of them severely injured and now remained in hospitals on Bajor and Earth. Six days after her annihilation the survivors were given a ray of hope in their overwhelming grief - their Captain, Jason Gideon, along with five other members managed to get away at the last moment.

Captain Gideon was promoted to Rear Admiral and less than a month after the destruction of the _Quantico_, given the command of the armada of ships headed to Gamma Quadrant. Their mission was to run reconnaissance of the terrain, map the enemy outposts and avoid battles which were unavoidable. His Flagship was a huge Galaxy Class explorer named _Bahadur_* and Admiral Gideon demanded that most of his former crew were stationed with him on his ship or on the five Defiant Class scouts.

Aaron Hotchner, promoted to Captain, was given his own - U.S.S. _Temeraire_.

* * *

t.b.c.

* Bahadur is a Persian name, meaning "Bold, Brave".


	2. Commander Derek Morgan

**A/N:** I hope now, that there's a bit more, you'll find this story interesting. It's complete and will be posted more-or-less regularely (as RL permits). The first chapters are a little slow, a kind of an introduction. The ACTION starts around chapter six or seven . . . can't remember right now . . .

* * *

**U.S.S. _Temeraire_**

**2 - Commander Derek Morgan**

* * *

It was the duty of the First Officer to report to his assigned ship first before the Captain, to prepare her for his arrival.

At least, that was Derek Morgan's sentiment and he followed it to the letter as he was shuttled onboard _Temeraire _this Saturday morning. The crew was supposed to board on Sunday but the bridge officers were expected this afternoon and Commander Morgan intended to welcome each of them on the deck.

Meanwhile, he was welcomed by a slim, dark-haired Vulcan woman whose face bore neither curiosity, nor eagerness. She was as blank as any other Vulcan face and Derek had to hold himself back from trying to probe her mind. Vulcans made him feel uneasy, no matter how much he tried to deny it, but he needed to be at peak efficiency today and opening up to the emotions and thoughts of others was always disturbing and often draining.

"Sir!" The Vulcan woman saluted. "Welcome onboard _Temeraire_, sir!"

"At ease, Lieutenant." Morgan marched toward her, extending his palm, hoping that he appeared open and accepting. "Commander Derek Morgan, First Officer."

"Lieutenant T'Elle, Dockyard Crew." The Vulcan's handshake was firm and steady. Reliable. "Would you like me to show you to your quarters first, or do you wish to see the ship?" Efficient.

Morgan indicated the bags hung over his arm. "I'd like to leave my baggage in my quarters and then see the bridge."

"Follow me, then."

The Vulcan turned away and purposefully walked to the turbolift.

"_Temeraire_," Morgan started in a chatty manner as they entered and the wagon swooshed up. "Is that the name of some dragon in the Human mythology?" The reason Vulcans made him feel uncomfortable - at least, that's how he justified his unease to himself - was their entirely mask-like faces. Of course, he avoided reading minds of all sentient species but at least their facial expressions satisfied his need to empathize by providing some information about their emotional state. This was not the case with the most controlled race in the Universe. Morgan hoped that T'Elle would relax if talking about some irrelevant matter, although this hope was most likely futile.

Indeed, T'Elle all but confirmed. "It is true. It's a relatively unknown myth from the European Middle Ages era*, I believe." She paused, long enough for them to leave the turbolift and walk into the corridor. Before they moved ahead she looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow, the first sign of surprise on her face nearly making Derek jump for joy. _Human_ mythology?" she asked. "You phrased it as if you weren't Human?"

"I am not," Morgan shrugged. It no longer puzzled him that he was not immediately recognized for his race. People of his species had distinctly darker eyes than Humans but with his dark complexion a lot of people in the Starfleet assumed wrongly. "I am a Betazoid."

"Oh," the Vulcan's brow quirked even higher and her eyes widened for a split second. Morgan contained the itch to chuckle at this _wild_ display of emotions. "These are your quarters." T'Elle changed the subject and took three steps to the right, reining her feelings back into submission.

Morgan didn't think she feared Betazoid telepathic abilities. He was certain that all Starfleet members knew the privacy of their minds would never be violated by a Betazoid but still, he wanted to reassure her about it, perhaps even explain why. Why _he_ wouldn't read her thoughts. This made no sense though, not with her. Familiarizing himself with the dockyard crew was pointless; she would be out of _Temeraire_ before he knew it and they'd most likely never see each other again.

Instead, he asked, placing his bags on the lower bunk and turning to leave, "I guess I'm the first of my crew to arrive?" He was certain the answer would be 'yes'.

To his surprise it wasn't.

"Well," he could swear that the Vulcan stammered. "Actually, the Chief Engineer came onboard yesterday."

"Chief Engineer?'' the Commander ran the crew manifesto through his head and a name popped up in his head. Penelope Garcia. "Where is she?"

"In the Holosuite." The Vulcan seemed almost embarrassed. Derek allowed himself a small opening of his defenses and sensed the Vulcan's faint, well-controlled anger. He withdrew quickly, curious as to what she could be angry about. T'Elle didn't give him a chance to ask. "Shall we go see the bridge now, sir?"

They didn't need to go far - the bridge door was almost directly opposite his quarters.

The Defiant-class ship was small and its bridge was equally crude. However, it wasn't unsophisticated by any means. The most efficient bridge in all Starfleet contained all the vital stations and they were equipped with the most advanced systems. Engineering and Tactical One were on the port side and Science, coupled with Tactical Two on the starboard. The Conn, merged with Ops, was centered and in front of the viewscreen and the lone Command chair was behind it on a raised platform.

Unlike on larger ships the Captain's Ready Room was not connected with it - actually, there was no distinct Captain's Ready Room. It was simply an area in the Captain's quarters and it was located on the other side of the ship, mirroring the First Officer's quarters. Instead of the Briefing Room they had a table in the alcove at the back of the bridge and for larger briefings they were supposed to use the mess hall on the lower deck.

Derek knew his station would be Tactical One and he would take the Command chair in the absence of the Captain.

The situation onboard _Temeraire_ was quite unusual, to be honest. It was uncommon that a ship this small would be commanded by a full Captain. It would be more appropriate if a Commander like Derek Morgan was in charge of it. But given the difficulty of the mission and the possibility that it might go to hell in a hand-basket at any moment, it was better to have as many experienced officers as possible in the crews of all ships.

Morgan asked Lieutenant T'Elle to display all stations and run a quick manual. There were no glitches, not that there could have been. The ship was brand new and it was coming off dock after three rounds of thorough check-ups. It was more of a formality from the Commander, the need to familiarize himself with the displays and the systems.

He was about to ask the lean Lieutenant to take him to the Holosuite to meet the Chief Engineer who was in such a rush to appear onboard before everyone else, when the Vulcan's comm-badge chirped.

"We received a message that a shuttle just left the station ring and is coming our way."

"Who's onboard?" Morgan asked.

"The Doctor and the Conn Officer."

* * *

t.b.c.

*Actually "Temeraire" is a name of many ships in French navy, beginning from XVIIth century. There are some British ships of this name as well. "Temeraire" in French means "Impudent, Insolent". The dragon mentioned here is from a series of novels by Naomi Novik - they are set in the Napoleonic era. People in XXIVth century could easily mistake a novel from our times for a myth from the Middle Ages, right?

Don't forget to review! ;)


	3. Ensign Spencer Reid :Reid:

**A/N: **Because someone asked me what is Trill, as not to confuse more of you, here's a **Trill 101:** Jadzia Dax, one of the main characters from _Deep Space Nine_ was a Trill. They are humanoids, but there are those little worm-like creatures living on their planet as well - they are intelligent and they may live in symbiosis with the humanoid Trills. As they live longer than humanoids, they may have multiple hosts and they retain memories of all the previous hosts. I think the Dax symbiont was about 400 years old and had six or seven lives, of course Reid is better than that, lol. It's a great privilige on Trill, to become a host. I hope whatever is in the story below will be a bit more clear now. If you had any questions, feel free to ask. :)

* * *

**U.S.S. _Temeraire_**

**3 - Ensign Spencer Reid (Reid)  
**

* * *

Spencer was curious. He had been born curious. He was also unusually bright, even for a Trill. Bright, curious and so driven to adventure it was bordering on stupidity. He had signed up for the Joining Program at the age of seven, feigning that he'd been fifteen on the forms.

Luck had it that Reid's previous host - Deanna, his fourteenth host - had been old at the time and she knew she would have to find a new humanoid Trill to join with fairly soon. When she'd thought about her past - her symbiont's past - she knew that she'd been old, she had died young, she'd been a man and a woman; she'd been a mother and a grandmother, a father and a grandfather; she'd lived on Trill and in space and she had experienced almost everything a symbiont may experience. She had lived longer than a symbiont Trill could expect to live. She hadn't experienced youth, though. No symbiont had ever experienced Trill adolescence, simply because young humanoid Trills were too fragile and their personality could easily be overwhelmed by that of a symbiont. When she saw Spencer's application, Reid claimed she was experienced enough and she wouldn't harm this young man. Thus, a false fifteen-year-old Spencer was not denied on the spot.

Things had become more difficult when the falsification was revealed, as a little boy instead of a teenager stood before the Symbiosis Commission. Reid had felt she wanted _this host_ even more now than before. She could experience childhood! However, the other members of the Commission would not agree with her.

It had been a fight. She had fought for Spencer for three years, giving up and renewing her hopes many times over. All the while she had become his friend, had been teaching him and realizing how strong he really was. He could do it! He could handle a symbiont and this symbiont would be gentle. There were times she'd thought she had lost when Deanna's body started failing, first her heart, then her kidneys. She wouldn't give up and the Commission eventually succumbed. The benefits of the symbiont and its need to _experience _had always been a prerogative of the Trill society.

She had waited patiently and finally Spencer and Reid were joined.

The joining hadn't gone as smoothly as Reid had hoped. Poor Spencer, ten years old, by far the youngest ever joined Trill - had nearly dissipated under the overwhelming personalities of the previous fourteen hosts and eventually it was Deanna's personality which saved him. The idea had been hers for Reid to remain separate from Spencer. He had been inside Spencer's mind and had seen everything through his eyes, heard through his ears and felt through his skin. The symbiont could share the boy's contact with the world but they would not become one, not until Spencer was ready.

Now, nearly thirteen years later they still hadn't fully joined. There were moments though, more and more often when Spencer and Reid acted as one and Reid was hoping that soon enough he would show Spencer all the wonders of being a joined Trill. For now, he waited.

And he had lots of fun watching the gaping mouth of Trills or people of other races when he spoke about himself in third person, or when he switched between Spencer and Reid in the middle of the conversation, or, best of all, when he was getting so carried away that he had discussions between Spencer and Reid going on aloud.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," he told the older bearded Human sitting in the other chair on a shuttle taking them to the _Temeraire_, their home for the next couple of months. "Spencer is still a little afraid of the outer space-" 'Am not!' - thought Spencer but Reid ignored him, "-and I needed to reassure him that all would be well. After all, I have survived nearly a thousand years, many of them on spaceships. I'm intending to survive the next thousand but I most definitely want to spend the next hundred in _this_ body." Other than Spencer's brilliant mind, Reid also loved the tall frame, big eyes and even bigger smile. "It's a cute body, don't you think, Doc? Spencer hates it when I call him cute." Reid chuckled and shut up. Spencer didn't say anything anymore, not even in their mind, simply because he took offense at being mocked and, right now, Reid felt a little ashamed of himself.

* * *

t.b.c.


	4. Lieutenant Commander Doctor David Rossi

**A/N:** I hope all is clear this time. If something is not, ignore it. Or ask, I'll explain. ;)

Thank you for reading, alerting, favoriting and most of all for reviews. :)

* * *

**U.S.S. _Temeraire_**

**4 - Lieutenant Commander Doctor David Rossi**

* * *

The vessel entered the shuttle bay, which was the smallest Doctor Rossi had ever seen. Well, it was a Defiant-class ship, not an Excelsior he was used to.

He had all reasons to feel bitter. Being assigned here felt like a degradation; a doctor in the rank of Lieutenant Commander would serve on a ship containing no more than fifty people. Not that he would have nothing to do, quite the contrary! At his age he was being sent to the line of fire, to the heart of enemy territory! He had thought that by being his best he would have earned a safe position one day, maybe on a hospital ship, maybe some research vessel. But no! The Headquarters saw it fit to give him a place where he would most likely get killed within a week. He wondered who up there hated him that much and why.

The first crew member he'd met was a young Trill, or so he thought. How wrong he was! One should never judge the age of a Trill by their current body - this one had hundreds of years under his belt and he was the weirdest Trill Rossi had ever seen. He'd always thought that joined Trills were not distinguishing between the personalities of a host and a symbiont but this one most definitely was. It weirded the poor Doctor out.

He was hoping to at least meet some friendly face onboard the ship itself but had no luck in that regard either. The welcoming committee, consisting of a dark-skinned Executive Officer, Derek Morgan and a Vulcan Lieutenant, T'Elle wearing a dockyard crew uniform, was serious as if both of them were Vulcans! While it was not strange for the Vulcan woman, one would hope for a smile or any . . . human . . . gesture form - as he presumed - a Human. If one glued pointed ears and risen eyebrows on that XO, he could pretend to be as perfect a Vulcan as the one standing next to him, Rossi thought with resignation.

"Let me show you to your quarters before we see the rest of the ship," the XO offered.

He walked beside the Doctor, while the Vulcan girl fell into step with the weird Trill. At least Rossi was free of that company. He heard the kid's chatty voice and realized the thousand-year-old symbiont was trying to make the Vulcan laugh. He'd rather talk to the space-fearing young host, if he were to choose.

"You served on the _Malinche_, under Captain Sanders, didn't you?" the Executive Officer aimed for a polite conversation but picked the worst subject possible. After the unbecoming incident with Eddington a year ago, it was all _Malinche_ was remembered for.

"Yes," Rossi hissed, "I have and it was not the Captain's fault that the Maquis ambushed us!" Anger made him defensive. Unnecessarily, as it turned out.

"I never thought that it was," Morgan quirked an eyebrow in a very Vulcan-like way and Rossi thought this day couldn't possibly get any worse.

He knew why he was so uncomfortable - the Commander's question about his previous post made him see that - and it was entirely his fault. He was supposed to review the crew manifesto on his way to the _Temeraire_ and meeting Spencer Reid threw him off this task. So now, contrary to the Commander, he had no knowledge of either him, or the Trill. Not even medical data and he had never slacked that badly before.

He was looking forward to locking himself up in his quarters for the next half-hour and making up for it but the sight of a small room with two bunks and an excuse for a computer station nearly made him throw a fit.

"I'm going to share?" he asked with despair.

"This is a Defiant-class vessel," the XO informed him as if he didn't know. "Everybody shares living quarters."

"Save it," Rossi waved his hand dismissively. "I'd like to unpack now and . . . I'll find the sick bay later, if you don't mind," he told the Commander and the man was civil enough to nod and say, 'see you later, then'.

Sighing, the Doctor threw his bags on the lower bunk - at least, he got to choose one - and tried to remember what this important thing was he was supposed to be doing now.

Ah! The crew manifesto!

He sat at the computer desk, opened the XO's file first and almost fell off the chair. The man was no Human at all; he was a damn Betazoid! Doctor tried to remember if he thought any offending thoughts but his mind was blank. Oh, well. All he could count on, in case there was something shameful, was Commander Morgan's discretion and the Betazoid Code of Sentience.

Why, oh why didn't he take that retirement offer? Ah, because he loved his job! He was going to have to remind himself about that for the next few months until they were back and then, his foot would never again step onboard any spacecraft.

* * *

t.b.c.


	5. Liuetenant Jareau Jeni

**U.S.S. _Temeraire_**

**5 - Lieutenant Jareau Jeni**

* * *

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea," JJ said quietly. She half-hoped Aaron wouldn't hear this.

"We talked about it, JJ, and you must climb back into this saddle." He placed his warm hand on her neck and squeezed lightly. The horse comparisons . . . JJ smiled to herself. The big animal with long hair, she remembered. Aaron Hotchner often remembered his childhood on a farm on Earth with fondness and she had learned a lot more about Earth's fauna and flora from him than at the two-month course she took at the Academy when Bajor was applying for the membership in the Federation and many youngsters like herself wanted to join the Starfleet.

She learned a lot about Earth sayings. On Bajor they would say the Prophets chose this path for her and she couldn't stray. Different, but in this situation applied just as well.

"How did Will take the news that he and Henry won't be allowed on this ship?" Hotch asked gently.

"Better than I thought." JJ felt a pang of regret, a feeling different than simple overwhelming terror which accompanied her for the last two days, since she had been given her entry permit onboard the _Temeraire_. "Considering what happened with the _Quantico_ I'm really happy they weren't with us and even though I'm going to miss them, I'm glad they are not coming now."

Aaron pursed his lips; she saw it in the corner of her eye. Now she turned to face him head-on.

"What about you? Did you have a chance to see Haley and Jack while on Earth?"

"Yes, I have," Aaron smiled softly to the memories of his son. "Jack is so big already. He says that he's going to be Starfleet too and each time he does, Haley is ready to bolt."

"Is she . . .?" JJ wasn't sure how to phrase her question, but her commanding officer was able to read her better than she could ever read anyone.

"She is seeing someone. I think it's serious. Jack likes him too."

JJ felt tears prickle at her eyes. Poor Aaron. She couldn't imagine Will ever finding someone else but the way they parted yesterday . . . She feared that once she would have returned, she might find out Henry was not her son anymore. She shouldn't have accepted this job. She should have stayed with her family! But Aaron could be so convincing. He said that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was not a good excuse to quit, especially since she had been evaluated and the professionals had said she was dealing with her survivor's guilt. Well, she was a psychologist herself, a ship's Counselor; she probably anticipated their questions and knew what answers to give. That, Hotch could justify as well - if she gave the answers that allowed them to say she was able to put what happened to the _Quantico_ behind, that meant she really wanted to be 'back in the saddle'. It meant that she wanted to take revenge for her dead colleagues.

Come to think of it, maybe he was right? At first she'd thought - and not with anger or resentment, she could never feel that toward Aaron - that he simply wanted to have one familiar face onboard his new command and that's why he pushed her so hard. Now she felt it was because he genuinely cared about her. It didn't matter anyway. She was ready to do it, simply because he said so. She would follow Aaron anywhere; it was as simple as that. She hoped the crew he was given would share that sentiment because he really deserved it.

"There's our shuttle," Aaron announced. "I wonder who was so fast getting there before us."

"Number One, I presume," JJ smiled. She read Derek Morgan's files and he seemed like a very dutiful officer. She couldn't understand why mentioning him now made Hotch's face darken. "What is it?"

"Um . . . nothing." Apparently, whatever thoughts Hotch had made him uncomfortable. It couldn't be . . .

"It's not because he's a Betazoid, is it?"

"Well . . ." It was. JJ watched him, somewhat puzzled. She couldn't imagine her commanding officer acting xenophobic. It must have been something else. "I'll deal with it. I won't show him any disapproval and I think he will show how valuable he is fast enough." He shrugged and added, a little embarrassed. "I'm just not comfortable with people getting into my head, you know?"

JJ knew. His was the quickest evaluation after _Quantico's_ destruction - he didn't allow the comission to ask him too many questions.

"Let's board her," she said, suppressing a chuckle.

"Wait!" Aaron grabbed her elbow so suddenly that she almost yelped.

"What?"

"What's going on?" his voice was alarmed and JJ felt her own heart quicken its pace. Was something wrong?

Hotch ran to the viewscreen of the waiting room. It was displaying _Temeraire_ hanging in the yard, attached by wires and tubes, docked over a mile away from a much, much larger _Bahadur_. Motionless, in zero gravity.

At least, she should have been motionless . . .

But she most definitely wasn't . . .

"Why is she moving?" Aaron asked virtually no one. He tapped into the communication array, "_Temeraire_, this is Captain Hotchner, what's going on up there?" he almost screamed.

No one answered.

"_Temeraire_!"

"Sir, we are trying to assess the situation," a voice from the console reported. "This is the Dockyard personnel. Please let us work it out."

"Yes," Hotch muttered and stepped away from the console. JJ could easily see what kind of thoughts were running through his head. His ship, his new ship he hadn't even taken under his command yet, was acting out, presumably in danger and all he could do was watch. She clung to him, hoping to at least share his terror. To at least help him carry this burden.

* * *

t.b.c.


	6. Ens Spencer Reid :Spencer:

**A/N:** Do you want to see what they look like? I made a few pictures, and they are posted on Live Journal. I'm not sure if this site allows links (actually I know it doesn't), so it will take some work from you. You'll neet to type "h t t p" with those usual slashes at the beginning and then community (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) criminalxminds (slash) 1397669 (dot) and of course "h t m l" at the end. Seriously, it's worth it! I'd make it easier for you if I knew how.

Meanwhile, please enjoy reading. :)

* * *

**U.S.S. _Temeraire_**

**6 - Ensign Spencer Reid (Spencer)**

* * *

So Spencer used to be curious and courageous, almost resulting in stupidity. Not anymore. The joining procedure had changed him. No matter how much Reid believed that his host would be that fearless boy again, Spencer knew better than that. He should go back to the Committee and tell them to take the symbiont out and give him a more suitable host. Of course, he would die then but it would be for Reid's benefit.

The worst of it was that he couldn't even have thoughts like that. Reid knew immediately.

_You're just tired, Spence, maybe you should have some sleep?_ he'd say.

_So you and Deanna can take over my mind?_ Spencer would joke.

Truth be told, Deanna was the only thing keeping him relatively sane. It was said that the previous personalities of symbionts would try to overpower the new host at the first sign of weakness. Not Deanna. Apparently, years of knowing her before joining created that special link where, toward the end of her life Spencer seemed more important to her than even Reid. He knew she would never do anything against him, nor would she allow Reid to do that. He was safe, asleep or not.

He didn't want to sleep now. Yes, he was tired; Reid's excitement over this assignment had worn them both out. Or rather had worn out the body, and the part of the mind that was Spencer experienced the bodily needs more than Reid did. He knew that Reid was eager to see the bridge though and, yeah, alright, maybe he was a little eager too. So when T'Elle asked if he would like to stay in his quarters or see his post, he chose the latter.

The bridge was not as impressive as those of larger ships, at least, at first sight but both Spencer and Reid knew what was underneath - some of the most sophisticated systems in the Federation. The most advanced technologies helped to maintain this little piece of art. It may have been simple in design but _Temeraire_ had the heart of a demon.

Spencer ran his fingers over the flat surface of the Conn console.

"How do you like it?" he heard a soft, deep voice from behind his back. He turned to see a dark-skinned man with a very pleasant smile. Commander Morgan.

"Sir!" Spencer stood at attention.

"At ease, Ensign. You're the first pilot, is that correct?"

"I . . . yes . . . hope so," Spencer stammered. He thought about giving the reins of this conversation away to Reid but the symbiont maliciously told him to face his superiors himself. Bastard!

T'Elle, standing right next to the Commander, glared at him with risen eyebrow. Well, it was Reid who occupied her with witty chatter while on their way from the shuttle bay. Spencer hoped his crewmates would get used to him changing personality every three minutes.

_Your buddies at the Academy did, _Reid intruded. _No reason for those here not to. Unless we eventually join for real and will become one whole person_, he added gently. Spencer knew there was nothing Reid wanted more than completion of their joining but he was unbelievably patient about this. To the point that it made Spencer feel guilty. _Stop it, boy! I wouldn't change you for the world!_ Right.

"May I turn it on?" Spencer asked instead. He knew this would make Reid happy.

"Just don't fly us away from here," the Commander joked.

"I'll run diagnostics." Spencer sat down immediately, feeling excitement tinged with anxiousness - both almost positively his, even if Reid was excited too.

"She had completed at least three check-ups here," the Commander reminded. "Besides, we will be running full system evaluation before we take off tomorrow. You may check how the console reacts but leave the more advanced procedures for later."

"Alright," Spencer said. He wasn't about to disobey orders on his first day, so instead of actually entering any commands, he opened the dialogue-box and looked through the command lines of the console. To a skilled eye - and one of Reid's older hosts was a computer specialist - reading code lines felt almost like the real thing.

That's when he saw it.

"What's that?" There was a stray line right in the middle, a line that most definitely didn't belong. It was in a place where a link allowing for the simultaneous use of this console as Conn and Ops should have been.

He tried to access the Operations systems . . .

And then all commands went haywire.

"What's going on?" the Commander demanded as the ship shook strangely.

"We're . . . moving!" the Vulcan Lieutenant sounded alarmed.

And Spencer . . . Spencer realized what he'd done and . . . he froze . . .

t.b.c.

* * *

Thanks for adding to alerts and favorites but y'know, it's reviews that really make me *gleee* :)


	7. Cmdr Derek Morgan

**U.S.S. _Temeraire_**

**7 - Commander Derek Morgan**

* * *

The kid was odd. One moment he seemed to be self-confident and funny, at the other he bowed his head and spoke so softly one needed to strain their ears to hear anything.

Morgan was tempted to sense him but he knew it would be futile. Joined Trills were impossible to read for Betazoids, as the brain patterns of symbionts' minds were too different from those of humanoid bodies. He remembered something about 'incomplete join' from this Trill's files but his knowledge of the Trill physiology was not sufficient to tell what that meant.

"Don't run full diagnostics," he told the kid but obviously it didn't register.

As Morgan was about to ask if a new transport was on their way already - the Captain could come any moment - the ship shook slightly.

"What's going on?" he looked around, alarmed.

Ensign Reid sat at his console, his long, slender fingers hovering above the darkened, flat surface. T'Elle stared at the tactical screen.

"We're moving," she reported.

"I can feel that, but why?" Derek jumped up to the Command chair and stared at his displays. He had to power them on first then reconfigure them as Operations in order to see the internal systems of the ship and why they were acting up. Meanwhile, he expected the pilot to give him a report, which he totally didn't do!

"Reid!" Morgan yelled.

"I'm rerouting Operations to Tactical Two!" T'Elle announced, obviously of the same mind as the Commander.

The floor vibrated as if a monster was waking up underneath.

"The engines are powering up!"

"Chief Engineer to the Bridge!"

"Ropes are loose!"

"Reid! Stop that ship!"

Still no reaction. Morgan looked up.

"Reid!"

He heard a sound. An odd, scary sound, different from the impulse engine. A kind of wail, moaning. As he stared at the pilot who sat stiffly, unmoving, he realized the sound was coming from him.

Morgan was on his feet in an instant. He hardly registered T'Elle's calm, "We're heading toward _Bahadur_, sir. Distance - twenty two hundred fifteen meters and closing. Still can't access Operations."

"Reid?" the Commander leaned over the unmoving pilot.

The Ensign's lips moved like they weren't his own. "Ayyyy, caaaant . . ." he moaned.

"What?" Damn! Everything would be easier if he could communicate with the Trill telepathically. Right now, he wouldn't worry about the risks for himself! "You can't? Can't what?"

"Speenceee . . . mmmm dyyying!"

Spencer? The Trill's files went through the Commander's head. 'Incomplete join'? Was it why he was acting like two people? Was the host rejecting the symbiont? Morgan may not have known much about Trill physiology but he knew enough - if a host rejected a symbiont and there was no other host standing by, they would both die. The host would die either way.

Morgan cast a glance at Tactical. The number depicting the distance from the _Bahadur_ was decreasing.

"Sir, Lieutenant Garcia reporting to the bridge! What's going on?" a high-pitched voice reached Morgan's ears. He hoped this was the Chief Engineer.

"Power down the engines. Now!" he yelled, not even turning to look at her.

He weighed his options frantically. He could push the pilot away and take his post but being a science officer before this assignment, Morgan wasn't a skilled enough fly-boy to be certain he would avoid collision with the _Bahadur_. Spencer Reid excelled at flying. They needed _him_.

Not to mention that Morgan hated the thought that if no one helped the Trill, it would kill not one, but two living beings. Maybe, just maybe, he had the ability to save them instead.

Betazoids could read minds of un-joined Trills. This Betazoid could do much more than read minds.

_Spencer_, he reached out and commanded, _Don't reject your symbiont._ He felt a strange pressure in the boy's mind. A pressure pushing him out. _Spencer! Join with your symbiont! You have to JOIN!_ he forced the young Trill to obey with the last of his will, before the overwhelming mute and invisible force threw him out and he stumbled against the deck, losing consciousness.

* * *

t.b.c.

* * *

If you're enjoying, please, drop me a line. :) It really doesn't take all that long. ;)


	8. Ens Spencer Reid :Reid:

**U.S.S. _Temeraire_**

**8 - Ensign Spencer Reid (Reid)**

* * *

Reid couldn't remember ever feeling like this - half-blind, half-deaf, paralyzed and unable to breathe. He couldn't even communicate his discomfort and Spencer was completely out of his reach. The most similar feeling was when his host was dying and he was hanging in limbo, waiting for the next one to take him in. Except that this host was not dying!

Spencer was rejecting him. Now Reid remembered he had felt like this - when he had been first entered into Spencer. The boy wouldn't admit him and it took all his will and experience of over a dozen joins to get through those most difficult hours. Later, even though their symbiosis was at a constant risk, nothing like this had happened again. Until now.

_Spencer!_ he tried to call out but it was no use. He tried to speak through the boy's lips but they were disobedient. He heard someone calling him, "Reid, Reid!" through the fog but he couldn't answer. He mumbled something but he had no idea if he was understood.

And then there was a presence . . . as if another personality invaded the space inside Spencer's mind. Reid had control over him to a degree - lesser than with his previous hosts but no one else could enter this mind without his knowledge and permission! No one!

What was this thing doing in here? Reid used all his diminishing strength to throw this invading presence from the mind that was rightfully his and it felt as if a cork popped out of the bottle. Suddenly light flooded him; sounds, loud and clear like he hadn't heard for thirteen years. Smells. The air smelled of sweat and fear but this was the sweetest thing Spencer Reid had ever smelled.

He looked around and took in the danger in an instant.

Someone behind him gave off a strangled, "Eeek!"

The Vulcan girl said in a calm and reliable tone, "Power down the engines, Lieutenant!" then added, "Distance - eighteen hundred fifty seven meters and closing!"

Spencer Reid shot a glance at navigation readings and his fingers started dancing on the console. He had to not only pilot the _Temeraire_ away from the Flagship now, but at the same time override the Trojan Command Code which wreaked havoc with the system. Whenever he managed to steer her clear, the damn virus would hit from the other side and _Temeraire_ flew where she wanted. Or rather where the virus wanted her to.

"T'Elle!" he called out. "I need you to access Conn from the outside and check all the command codes. You'll have to remove the virus code manually!"

"On it! What's with the engines?"

"Almost. Under. Control." The girl's voice from behind Spencer was focused and vicious. "There!" the Chief Engineer yelled triumphantly. "I knew something was wrong with my systems the moment I opened them, so I went straight to the Holosuite and ran a simulation. Engines are at your service again. Now move over, sweetness." Reid saw in the corner of his eye that the Vulcan was being pushed away from her console by a rather colorful-looking individual. He regretted not being able to tear his eyes away from the Conn at the moment but he'd rather not lose an inch.

"What's our distance from the _Bahadur_?" he asked instead.

"Twenty hundred fifty six meters. We're steering toward other scouts now. Safe distance, but not for long, at this speed!"

"We'll keep it safe if I have a say about it," Spencer promised.

"Done!" The colorful girl announced joyfully.

Spencer felt the difference immediately. _Temeraire_ obeyed him now like the good girl that she was. She swung through the opening between two other docked scouts and flew into the open space freely. There, the pilot disengaged engines and halted her, hoping to give everyone on the bridge a breather.

This was some wild ride.

"Awesome," Chief Engineer didn't hide her excitement and Spencer looked at her closely for the first time.

She had blonde hair with red streaks and she was wearing _a dress_. A person on a Starship in a dress was an oddity but this dress was also pale beige with a yellow-and-pink flowery pattern. The woman wearing it had the biggest, happiest smile Spencer Reid had ever seen. It faltered slightly when she saw him glaring at her dress but she covered her embarrassment quickly.

"What? I didn't have the time to change. I came onboard and was too curious, so I went to only take a look at the Engineering and then I just had to check . . ."

"What happened to him?" T'Elle interrupted them suddenly, kneeling on the other side of the Conn console.

Spencer Reid felt strange tingling in his spine. There, on the floor, mostly hidden behind his console but now that he got up, clearly visible, lay Commander Morgan.

He did something before . . . Reid couldn't clearly remember; he did something to Spencer . . . No!

_Spencer!_ No! No, he couldn't, not now. _Don't go, don't do that!_

It was too late. Spencer, who for the last few minutes operated with him in a perfect union, together, _joined_ . . . now, withdrew, like he always had. Ran away, shrank into his corner of their common mind.

_Spencer, we could stay together,_ Reid pleaded.

_He's hurt!_ Spencer wailed in response. _He's hurt because of me!_

"It's my fault!" He said out loud.

"It's not, sugar." The blonde Chief Engineer laid a hand on his shoulder, staring down worriedly at the Commander's prone form.

"Actually," Reid decided he needed to take over. Situation was still not cleared and apparently none of those children were able to deal with the mess. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is."

"It totally does!" Spencer argued.

Chief Engineer turned to him wide eyed. Oh, well, he rarely made a good first impression.

"Don't mind him," said T'Elle, "He's weird."

"Doctor to the bridge!" Reid tapped his comm-badge and inside he quietly asked Spencer to shut up and let him work. "Meanwhile, we need to close up the ship and make sure no one leaves or boards. We had sabotage here and we need to find out who's responsible for that."

"Well, if that is the case, you're not the one giving orders around here," the Vulcan Lieutenant interrupted. "Firstly, you're only an Ensign and secondly, _Temeraire_ is still under Dockyard personnel jurisdiction. That means I'm the commanding officer here."

"Someone from your Dockyard personnel entered those virus codes into our systems, Lieutenant!" Reid hovered above her. Spencer was damn tall and Reid enjoyed using this advantage on other people. T'Elle backed away, her demeanor unchanging. She was right about him being just an Ensign, though. Damn! Reid had been an Admiral in his days but right now that experience had to be stored on a shelf. "I believe that Lieutenant . . ." he turned to the Chief Engineer.

"Garcia," Chief Engineer squeaked. "Penelope Garcia."

"Lieutenant Garcia is the oldest officer onboard. Therefore, she takes command."

"Actually, no," someone said from the hatch. "I am the oldest." It was Rossi. "Lieutenant Commander Doctor Rossi, if you please. Now Ensign, return to your post, because we may still ram into something if you don't steer that ship. You should return us to the Dockyard too. Lieutenant Garcia. Power up the thrusters, so we can do it slow and easy, not like that tumble we've just performed. And you, Lieutenant T'Elle, please try to contact traffic control and tell them we're fine. If the Captain is anywhere near, we'd be glad to welcome him onboard."

"Excuse me," Reid couldn't quite agree with all the commands. "I think we should order the ship under quarantine. If this was a Changeling-"

"Allowing someone from the outside won't be letting the Changeling out. And the ship needs her Captain. Meanwhile, we all have work to do. Get on with it!"

He glared at Reid for a moment and when the pilot nodded and returned to his console, the doctor in turn leaned over the Commander. Having run a tricoder over him back and forth he asked three enlisted to help him carry him down to the med-bay - transporters were off limits in such a crisis.

Spencer wanted to know what was happening with the man but Reid, very sternly, told him to keep doing his job. This would be the best way to help everyone.

* * *

t.b.c.

**A/N:** The story wasn't very well received here and posting requires time as much as anything else. I write for myself, but yes, I shamelessly admit that I post for appreciation. That's why I chose the site that allows posting with the least effort - AO3. The COMPLETE story is available there:

hxxp:[slash][slash] archiveofourown [dot] org [slash] works/211664

You know the drill? Remove all spaces, instert . instead of [dot] and / instead of [slash] and of course "tt" instead of "xx" in hxxp. the link should work then. Sorry for inconvenience. Enjoy! :)


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